Jack of Hearts Hotel
by Albatross Zeta
Summary: What's a bachelorette to do? Ash comes to grinding terms with her relationship status as the city floods itself with the bright decor of the most lovey-dovey day on the calendar. A strange gesture from an unlikely source might give her the solace to get through the days. But then again, she might just kill someone...
1. Part 1

_Author's Note_ : Hello, Ladies and Gentlemen. I wanted to write something Valentine's Day themed, since some of the characters would be perfect, in my opinion for it. I have not tossed aside _Flash in the Pan_ , just as this was an idea too good to abandon. I will try to get that next chapter out soon. This meanwhile will be shorter, with three chapters at most.

Disclaimer: _Sing_ is the ownership of Illumination Entertainment. I under no circumstances make a profit off of this story. Thank you.

Please enjoy.

 _Jack of Hearts Hotel_

Chapter 1

February 13th:

Ash's eyes trashed the hearts her eyes picked everywhere she went, nowadays. They swam and plunged into her vision that she would've had to wear thick, dark, sunglasses in order to blot it out. The ocean of pink and white and red…so much pink and cherry red…invaded her conscious thought, pilfering punk with filtered niceties and bad romanic notions. The flowers propagated overnight, too, tossing their rosy petals to the San Francisco winds, as happy, ambitious vendors offered her more than once a toss of a vase.

She tried to ignore it, punching it down in the pit of her stomach. Not remotely easy, with lovey-dovey propaganda trying to color crimson her stylish black threads.

She could feel a grimace of disgust forming along with that pit-gut feeling. Even as she tried to hide while cooking a millennial breakfast, she couldn't deny the truth of the calendar. Valentine's Day was almost upon the city. And people were getting stupid.

The coffee came to fruition hastily, burning hot as Ash turned slightly cold. Quills frizzed and peculated in frustration, but she knew she was going to have to brave the day. Buster had called for practice, and a fair bit of carpentry ultimately would surface after the accident from the day before.

A brief grin as the coffee slid down the throat. Bliss fused from the nectar of coffee beans and hilarious indignant accidents with no physical casualties brought that grin. The memories supplied herself a TV screen.

As Buster was wont to do, he pushed for something grandiose. In this case, he got an idea for a bit of an airdrop from the rafters to the stag. If it had been someone…light, like her or Mike, then while the fear of splat remained, the epic fail wouldn't have occurred.

His idea involved Meena flying through like an angel while Johnny played piano to enter. This by itself wasn't a problem, until you realize that A) Johnny was the strongest member there, and so could maneuver Meena better, but as he was tied up on piano, couldn't, B) Buster was still having problems hiring stagehands, with only that bull Richie getting brought in, C) Buster concocted the idea of having Ash, Mike, Eddie, and Gunter maneuvering her, and D) The combined might of those four _still_ wasn't as good as Johnny's. Rosita, meanwhile, would be performing duet alongside Meena, as Meena hovered above her.

End result: Gravity and a broken stage, with a hole to fill an elephant teenager, a gorilla teenager, and a very ancient piano.

Good news: Meena, Johnny, and the piano were unharmed. The costume was ruined by the planks, but no scratches

Funny news: Ash, Mike, Eddie, and Gunter went on a proverbial ride and hung from the rafters until Johnny and Buster could get them all down. Ash swore if she found her picture on social media tomorrow…

Bad news: With the stage broken, Nana Noodleman a little upset, and Buster playing negotiator, dress rehearsal at least halted until the stage could be fixed. Any future practices would involve them fixing the stage until Buster could convince Ms. Noodleman to fork over the dough for repairmen.

A bit of karma for Ash though: Apparently, they had been trying to frame this around Valentine's Day, to take advantage of the holiday cheer and greenbacks. Buster originally wanted it to be 'a show for couples'. Ash almost gagged.

She slurped the coffee down the hatch, the brown nectar dabbing her lips. Always the best way to start, even if she could see the saccharine plague outside. She couldn't put it off much longer, though. She needed to go out and brave the tempest of pink balloons and love-struck couples.

She remembered several Valentine's Days before. All twisted in furious passion with her eyes the perceptiveness of binoculars, the lenses changed by circumstance and memory. What once made her moan in pleasure or squeal in glee made her grimace in frustration. An absent tongue licked her lips in confusion, remembering the bittersweet taste of past engagements. Her body recalled warmth from a dirtbag that cooed sweet nothings and tossed her aside. The heart wanted and the brain disbarred.

On street level it was nearly unbearable. Guitar case jostled on her side and quills as paper, pink hearts folded out in orderly lines. A lot more boyfriends- for she could _sense_ they were some lucky girls' boyfriends- roamed out at the vendors near her apartment, perusing the prices and checking the overall thickness of their wallets. There always seemed to be more. Why did she not see them last year?

 _Oh right. Lance._

How could she have _seen_ any other boy when she had Lance? She locked eyes with him, with his body, with his footfalls and untied shoelaces and endearing bucktooth.

That was how she thought once. Becky in her red-and-black striped dress changed that. The eyes of rebellious innocence morphed into the vision of a Byronic schemer. The untied shoelaces marked him as lazy and unhygienic. The bucktooth explained his legacy as one generation from suburban trash.

But she made him _warm_.

Ash lost herself in the plague of Valentine's Day with Lance before. It _felt so good,_ like rolling in marshmallows. Now, she felt cold, not just from the Pacific breeze of winter, but from Lance's absence. Even the warmth of her morning sweet coffee faded under the juggernaut of her memories.

The trolley ride was quiet, but crowded. The roaming boyfriends and folk meaning to go about their jobs occupied the metro, but each submerged into their own personal worlds, some assisted by their social tech. Ash, looking at the constellations of hearty colors, stepped away herself. Despite what they might look like, the current crop didn't ensnare her as effortlessly as Lance had.

There had been good things about him. Lance _had_ his flaws, though: Ash had written a whole damn song about that transition, from breaking from the euphoria and the warmth and the enjoyment and the weird commentary on B-rated horror films and-

 _Stop. Just stop_.

Her hand clasping his. She missed that sensation, missed that security. But open her heart to another? What if the next porcupine decided to curtail her hopes?

 _And what about now? Free, and what?_

They cuddled together when they watched those B-rated films. They actually bet in massages the order that the horrible acting teenagers would die. She missed his warmth pressing into him. Zephyrs and nothingness clasped her shoulders, caressed her neck, kissed her cheeks, wiped her tears.

 _Damn. Really don't want this right now._

She looked over and her eyes widened at the obvious displays of love around her, popping out of the ground as they sneaked in from shadows. A pair of hippos talked sweet compliments to each other, nerdy yet completely void of the world. A monkey typed hyper fast on twitter, eyes and dopey grin betraying his sexting (She knew it. She just knew it). A pair of teenage cats in hooligan hats seemed so into each other that they obviously groped in public. Even the kids were getting their valentine's cards for school prepped as another young couple started-

 _Nope. Tuning out for that. Didn't get on the metro to see that. Maybe on the late night no no no not going there not going there not going there..._

The city seemed to conspire on getting her to choke on sugary love, but she couldn't escape her current social media status. She was single on Valentine's Day.

A hardness clustered on her heart.

That simple, 6-letter word stayed with her, even as she beat feet from that lovesick metro and got to the theater. Even as she tossed a static hello to her fellow friends, each as quirky as always, that 6-letter word paraded in her head, flipping a coin on its two-faced manner. Despite all the reasoning, justifications, and moral showing, even when the Almighty would've agreed with her and played table-tennis in a comforting show, a half-gallon of mint chocolate ice cream she had polished off watching late night rom-coms objected to her rightness.

Damn, she hated being single on Valentine's Day. Everyone conspiring to paint the joy of couples demonized her bachelorette status.

She grabbed a hammer and nails and started whacking. Whether the nails were sealing planks to planks, or heartstrings to heartstrings, Ash couldn't tell. Work blotted out the flowers and perfume and paper hearts.

- _Sing_ -

Mike survived by keeping his wits about him, an ear always to the rails and an eye always to the crowd. It granted him the ability to enchant the audience and get a lucrative contract to balance his rapid spending, and it helped him survive murderers in broad daylight. It also had the side effect of picking up the temperature of the room. Gloom shadowed his moody teenage compatriot, but initiative didn't immediately curtail his attitude. He lost his composure yesterday with Meena, and had apologized once already.

Apologizing twice in a day…the troop might soften him up.

Lorelei, his date, lady, lover, and savior, might object to that, but he had a one-lady rule when it came to softening him. Lorelei earned that privilege. He wooed her. She wooed him. They escaped the bears. Justice served and his lady's happiness served later that night. Forgiveness granted for bailing by Buster and his glass-half-full kinda mentality, but he had to keep his rep.

He could make goo-goo eyes at Lorelei all day and all night if they were in their apartment. But not always outside, where everyone could see them. There…well, better to be the very modern model of a gentleman.

His mousey frame kept him from doing too much. Rope was too much. Hammers he could kick but barely use, and _his_ sized tools didn't really knock those nails in. He earned his keep through the power of his lungs, not his biceps, and getting the sax and spilling a lovey-dovey tune outside profited his purse and his mind.

However, Buster laid his foot down, and needed help. Given the troop was so sparingly small, they needed every hand, big or small, that they could get. Even if Meena and Buster's harebrained scheme perhaps was the cause of it all.

He looked over at his red overshirt hanging away. As expensive at it had been, he had no intention of dirtying it if Mike had to work. His white fur felt almost naked, a foot without a sock, without those exquisite threads.

A thud clambered on the planks, drawing back his attention. Ash's hammer struck with more force and less control with each swing. Mike didn't care about the inevitable damage to the planks-

 _"Until we get the stage fixed, no shows guys! So, lets roll up those sleeves until we can see our faces in them."_

Buster's words echoed and doomed his train of thought. Of _course_ the koala would think of this! He-they-couldn't do a show with pay until…and that Noodleman didn't want to pay the-!

A frustrated groan bubbled in the back of his throat. He sang so he wouldn't have to labor like an immigrant! Not the other way around!

Ash smattered the planks a second time, and a third, completely missing the nail in her lack of control. Mike turned his eyes over to Gunter and Johnny, inside the hole that was the stage, trying to push the piano back up through an incline. Neither had attention or eyes for Ash's destructive habits. Rosita-who really, really, _really_ , would be appreciated with hands like her- was out with the kids, at their school. Meena was on the other end removing the debris her bulbous form made. Buster was upstairs trying to get professionals. Professionals that probably were taking time off for tomorrow.

 _Great. Great. If you gotta do something…if my reputation stays clean after this it'll be a damned miracle…_

All the while, Ash kept hammering away with the accuracy of Mike's three blind cousins. He grabbed the bag of nails as big as himself and got within striking distance of the hammer.

"Kid."

Hammer. Thwack. Nail missed and fell into the abyss next to Johnny's shoelaces.

"Hey. Down here!"

Another thwack. Mike swore she hit her finger. He didn't see a wince.

"Kid. I'm gonna start throwing happy pills if you don't stop for a moment."

"What?" A bit too forceful, but he had Ash's attention.

"Look. I don't want to do this much more than you, so, but job's a job, so-"

Thwack.

Mike strode up and grabbed the nail out of her hand, and positioned himself by it like a pawn on a chessboard.

"Look kid. You ain't winning any medals for sharpshooting, so we're gonna do this differently. I'll set them up, you plug them down. Ok?"

The gloom he sense earlier raised its temperature to agitation. Not anger, but Ash's face and eyes told him she passed the 'peeved' road sign a few seconds ago. She reached out to grab the nail; Mike jerked it right back.

"Nope."

"Let go."

"What, so you can screw up the wood worse than those beavers?"

"Give me the nail!"

"Or what, you'll hit me?"

Mike laid himself proudly out. The nail remained imbedded where he needed it to go. Ash's eyes flashed with the low spectrum of anger, but it was more 'I don't have time for this crap' anger, and she raised the hammer to bop him.

She pounded the nail next to him deep into the wood. Mike quickly grabbed the next one before her, and positioned himself in the next corner.

"C'mon! You can write a script about a crappy boyfriend but you can't hit me? What's up with that?"

The hammer flew through again, and again she missed Mike, but effortlessly buried the nail. Again Mike jostled among the teenage porcupine, grabbing a bevy of nails, taking point on the board, and let out a taunting the French would be proud of.

"What's white and red and pink all over? Apparently a target that can't get hit!"

 _Thwack!_

"You got fingers for strings for days and you can't move that hammer 'round?"

 _Thwack!_

"Maybe someone can show you what you need to be doing, but that's what she sa-"

 _Thwack!_

"Maybe this'll give you a new song idea, kid. What we call it? 'Hammer it home'?"

 _Thwack!_

Over and over, minutes bled into an hour, and Mike repeatedly prodded her with his scything barbs. Every time he got her ticked enough to want to hit her. Every time he stood, and watched her hook her aim at the last minute...and hitting the nail she was supposed to hit in the first place. Before long, Ash had covered an entire fourth of the stage, enough for Mike to call a break from his shenanigans.

"Well, a good job if I do say so myself. All thanks to me," He gave a mock bow even as Ash glowered at her, "Don't just stand there kid. You got a break too."

He pointed down, showing the absence of the other players. In all their game of porcupine-and-mouse, Johnny and Gunter had managed to unearth the piano, and Meena had dutifully repurposed some of the other wood for the other side of the stage. They were alone. Perplexed as Ash's face might've been, Mike's smugness drowned it out. He got his overshirt back as they took a moment to recollect.

"Look Spikes, I like you more than most those kidders out there, but I got a limit on how much 'moody teenager' I'm willing to deal with. My gauge's on the E right now, so…a thanks might be in the cards."

"Why? You keep talking trash about-"

"Looks like the only way you can hit anything is if you don't aim at it, kid." Mike brushed himself off, offhandedly gesturing at the repair work. "Lori tends to like you all, so…that was my good deed for the day."

At the mention of his lover, Ash's eyes hardened and softened, as if the tears fought with the neurons on whether or not to be stoic or sad. Mike picked it up. Eyes scanned the room, from the bright seats to the darkness in the back, all to protect the jaded bronze of his reputation. No one else was there. Back to her, he broke his 'one-good-deed-a-day' rule.

 _Lori's gonna find out about this_.

"Kid. I got a second." Palms rubbed in nervousness. Counseling wasn't his strong suit. That was Lori. With her attentive ears, sugary words, and smoking legs, he could listen to her read the phonebook in French if she wanted and he'd be rapt attention and sherry on his suit. He preferred rough-and-tumble and the twist of the cards to therapy, but Lori wanted him to be better.

He owed her, at least.

"What's your problem?"

"What?"

Mike sighed. This was so out of left field for him, so uncharacteristic, but…

"What's. Your. Problem?"

Ash didn't respond. If anything he deduced she was more confused than angry, roiling around in trying to figure out what he played at.

"Look, kid. I'm breaking my rules here. I got a date tomorrow to consider and I need to pick up some things for Valentine's Day," _'Cause damn does Lori love sapphires_. "But I'm not gonna stand like a doof while you don't-"

At that point he noticed, finally. For a guy that active chased skirts and wooed hearts, he should've figured that Ash's 'single' status would've been an issue when the companies tried to jam hearts and flowers down your throat. Not as much a problem for the gals, since the guys had to pay through the nose for said hearts, flowers, and dinners, but she reverberated being upset like a bell.

"Oh, right. Your dance card's open. For tomorrow."

"…yeah. What about it?"

"Look, kid. You ain't my type, but you pretty easy on the eyes for some other guy. Don't see what the problem is."

He wasn't lying on either front. Mike was spoken for, now, so no other girl was his type, anyway. As for Ash, who certainly looked pretty in her 'pop princess' dress, well…he imagined someone looked at her and then _looked_ at her.

"Yeah, right. If that's true, why hasn't some guy come up?"

Mike bit back the obvious answer of 'attitude', lest he destroy his herculean labor.

"Well, I don't know what you do when you ain't here, but watching gameshows and endlessly practicing probably bombs the dating life. Plus, you're famous. A little bit of a wall there. But if you need someone quick, well…"

Mike begged the Almighty that she wasn't going to jump back with the previous boyfriend. Otherwise 'no good deed goes unpunished' indeed. But he didn't exactly know anyone that fit the 'alternative lifestyle' that Ash so effortlessly embraced. Outside of some artsy-smartsy locale where the dumb beatniks and druggies gather...

The lightbulb flashed on instantly. Perhaps there was one that he could call on.

"Hey, kid." She turned back to him, her eyes cornering to slits. "This is because you're lonely, right? Got a Band-Aid right here."

Paper torn and pencil dancing around, Mike found his elixir to the situation. Address, phone number, and name of establishment all cleverly boxed in, the mouse ripped the information off in a flourish. Ash's eyes took in the info.

* _Jack of Hearts Hotel_

 _For the Lonely Hearts that need some nitro!_

 _6969 Harding Road_

 _(555) 555-6217_

"I've been here a few times. Mostly for sax gigs. Go there. I guarantee you you'll find some guy that'll worship the ground you walk on…And isn't a creep!" He added hastily, catching her indignation. "I mean, what you got to lose?"

Ash looked at the number and address. Without a word, she folded up the piece of paper, and then grabbed her axe. The longing of her own hard rock, to drown out the pink and red and whites, bade her to put the matter on hold. At least for now.

"Another job well done," Mike darted his eyes around. "You're welcome, by the way!"

She didn't return the gratitude just yet. She wasn't exactly sure if this place wasn't a joke or not.

-Sing-

Dusk heralded itself in its own dependable way, with the murk slapping up the last lasers of February 13th. Businesses stayed open in such a way that Ash had been harped on by the barkers, but she ignored them in her usual sarcastic charm.

When she saw the name of the 'respectable' establishment, she initially thought she would be walking into those seedy hotels with the heart shaped pillow covers, replete with sexy male dancers baring their abs and thrusting their hips…a little more like Mike's style. However, upon actually calling them, she found out they were a little more…particular.

Nitro referenced speed. As in speed dating.

Ash wasn't sure if she wanted to vomit at the dirty, desperate hook-up shot, or actual be surprised that Mike offered that.

"Ah, my eyes do deceive me, but we have unkempt beauty here," A well-dressed python, manning the door, began. "You seek a companion for the day of Hearts, my mademoiselle?"

Laid on a bit thick, but Ash didn't trust her own voice to be kind. She nodded.

"You've made the right choice, my dear. As you see, we at the Jack of Hearts Hotel help many that want a companion…for one night or forever, we aim to meet your interest in nitro speed. Let Mr. Kaa lead you on."

"Uhh…" Cynicism broiled a bit over, concern over what exactly was going to transpire at this juncture now. The fact that she didn't see this place, located near old Golden Gate…

"…I can see your story dear. And why you hesitate. Understandable, my dear. Broken before, like fists and tails on glass. You won't find that here, my dear. The fruit of your choosing is inside, _cie'voux plait_." A tail gestured at the bright door.

Ash grimaced again, and conflict brewed. The sickening hearts still flutters around her, begging and bidding her entrance alongside the doorman. But this was an idea from Mike, and Mike didn't always have the best of ideas…right?

Ash also trailed back to what waited behind her. Walking back under the flying hearts and the flowers and the plushies and the balloons, returning to her apartment with her millennial cuisine and the limited TV, which she couldn't afford Trekflix. Where her guitar waited at the base, her stalwart friend and companion, bidding her to play and jam and write more songs. She remembered the half-gallon mint chocolate ice cream lulling her to eat, to consume, the bag of chips, the opened coffee bin, and the other artifacts of gluttony. Her cellphone, which still had Lance's number, and everyone else's number, from Rosita to Johnny to Buster. The urge to talk, and yet have nothing to say, causing the problems associated with talking to her friends. All of that normalcy, certified, stagnant, complacent, awaiting her, a soapy lullaby.

The punk rock porcupine looked in front. Aware of the black unknown in front, staring, and offering its own lullaby. Daring desire, dancing, delirium under the hypnotic politeness of the python doorman, all these spoke to her on a visceral level, gripping at the adventurous part, the hopeful part, of her brain. Both back and front beckoned, one promising mystery and change, the other promising certainty.

She shrugged.

"What the hell."

The door swung open, revealing even from their the decor befitting a Valentine's Day theme cafe. The hearts were more subtle even there, etched in the banisters and table corners. The flowers shrouded in mesh paths, from what she could see, and the balloons seemed locked in the rafters, but divorced from the ground.

What did she have to lose?

The python closed the door behind her, chiding but consummately polite in bearing.

"Enjoy your time, mademoiselle. I guarantee you'll find your answer..."

The door clicked, and she found herself bathed in the ocean of ruby, pink spinel, and white lights. Another maitre'd motioned her forward, handing her a card, pen, and menu, alongside his affably greetings.

 _Damn it, Mike. If this turns out like trash..._

At least she wouldn't be single for the night.

-Sing: End Chapter-


	2. Part 2

Disclaimer: Sing (2016) is under the ownership of Illumination Entertainment. Under no circumstance do I make any profit off of this. Also, there are some other folks that hail from other fandoms mentioned here. They belong respectively to those that they belong to. Songs mentioned belong to those that created them (no song mentioned is of my ownership, and I do not make money on this).

Author's note: Admittedly, I am submitting this minutes after the end of Valentine's Day. So, I'm late. I'm not sure if I should end it here, but I feel I will add a third part. Resolution and all. So this will be a story about Valentine's Day...after Valentine's Day.

Oh well. Please enjoy.

 _Jack of Hearts Hotel_

Chapter 2:

F **ebruary 13** **th** **, evening...**

Immediately upon the door's closing, the confections of love bombarded Ash in a mixture of the sultry, sensual, and frivolously silly. Unlike the rated-G roads and business district which pawed for the attention of all casual consumers, this place knew its clientele and embroidered itself in the laciest of tricks to get the attention going and blood pumping, to disguise lust as love and love as lust. The eponymous Jack of Hearts itself loomed from the ceiling and from the front wall, characterized with the roaming eye of a playboy but the sincerity of a steady rake. Other queens, of spades, clubs, and diamonds, bunched around it, implying both a sexual magnetism and an almost sexist image.

Yet Ash saw that this place was as much for the ladies as it was for the guys, her eyes consuming gluttonously the scenery. Yes, the Jack of Hearts chased the queens, but the Queen of Hearts, on the other end, pointed a specter at several tuxedo-wearing boys that could best be called 'Aces'. On the ground floor, now moving from the furniture, she caught an eyeful of the employees. A stage rested under the Jack of Hearts, with several dancers and a singer belting out eye candy and ear candy for the lonely hearts. At the moment, another suave suited crooner let loose his dulcet tones, playing "Luck be a Lady" by Sinatra. Behind him were a mixed ratio of very, very attractive guys and girls dancing to the beat. Whether they were regulars, customers, or part of the show, Ash could only guess.

Why she didn't get carded walking in left her a bit perplexed, but she chalked it to celebrity status.

The balloons in the rafters still remained locked, as if awaiting a signal. The lights, as if puffed from a spotlight, shone down in the center. Ash's eyes drew to the long, long table, stretching from the queen to the Jack. Every so interval a vase with two roses-pink and white- bisected the sides. No one had sat down, but a multitude of patrons, ranging of all species, milled nearby, sampling the wares. Most seemed close to her age, but given she was 18, the cards were wild at that point. She spotted a card and pen in each of their hands, much like what the maitre'd handed her.

All the attention drilled to that table. Thankfully, with the sheer amount of energy and action, her appearance was barely noticed.

The maitre'd slithered up, a mic grasped to her lips.

"All right, looks like we have a full house tonight in the abode of the Jack of Hearts! So many lonely hearts that need a few strings to wrap up...all those tensions..." She let out a sensual degree of pleasure and hedonism unexpected for the master of a hotel. A gimmick or a reflection of her actual persona, Ash couldn't call it. She listened, as the rest.

"Please, everyone, take your seat and prep your drinks."

Routine cut under the festivities, stretching expectations of the wild and profane with deliberate brakes. Each seat matched its ordinance: A bowl of candies, dark chocolates of the heart motif and peppermints of a club shape, and a single glass utilitarian enough to substitute either hard or softer drinks decorated the table, complete with a single clock under the glass. The two roses gave indication of sex, pink for where the girls sat and white for where the boys sat.

The maitre'd (Ash felt matron might be the better term, but she could barely detect the feminine in the python) slither to a podium, while goats clambered out, taking drink orders and pouring the requested beverage.

"Now, ladies, gentlemen, and those of...persuasions that encompass all," the maitre'd hissed out, "Take your seats. Enjoy a tart sweet, and fill out your cards. This is nitro speed dating, darlings. 5 minutes to your mark. Wag your tongues to your heart's content, but don't worry...we can't have anyone gobbled up all day...but maybe _all night_."

The innuendo damn certain wasn't lost on anyone present. Ash began to wonder if this was a good idea. Given everything from the crooners to the obviously, oppressive motifs around her, Mike fit this place like a glove, with glamor and gloss melding the masquerade. Ash preferred something a bit more homey, but...not necessarily all out in the open.

On the other hand, who was she going to meet from her couch?

She slid into her spot, on the far end, closest to the Jack of Hearts overhead. The assortment of dates also took their spots, males to females.

"Don't get cozy just yet, loves," The maitre'd hissed out. Ash was beginning to have a hard time telling if the python was male or female. "Everyone ready? Five minutes of bellicose flattery and amorous passion, but everyone gets a share. Everyone moves to their left at the buzzer, until everyone has had a turn. The rest...well, we let the victors get the spoils. Objections? Walk outs?"

The challenge went unanswered, and for a moment the maitre'd leered at the invites, as if daring anyone to step away like Judas Iscariot himself. None did so.

"Well, we've strung it out enough. Lets go."

Click. Four minutes and fifty-nine seconds remaining and seeping.

Ash felt the fist-crush of nervousness, as if her courage had been locked in a paw and just squeezed. Where daring and desperation once stood proudly with its banner, a clutching uncertainty damned her. The half-gallon mint chocolate ice cream, locked back in her freezer, pitiably called out to her, a siren to the clear expectations she had come to note in her responsible single status. She stood in unknown territory, way, way, _way_ outside her comfort zone, and clearly in a place that she didn't anticipate to find like minded people. Someone like Lance would pop up here when Buster Moon bought the Golden Gate Bridge, Mike joined the Peace Corp, and Johnny's Dad got let out of jail by Christmas. So what exactly could she expect here?

Nothing. Not one thing.

She made a memo to kill Mike if all of this turned out bad.

"Uh, hello?" She heard her date finally draw her attention at the 4:48 mark, slicing through her thoughts. Her eyes turned up, up, up, seeing a giraffe in a hoodie. One that she recognized.

 _Oh dear lord._

"Hello? I'm Daniel."

"Hey. Ash. Down here. Probably can't hear me..."

"What? Are you talking to me?"

Ash couldn't help but facepalm. Of course something like this would happen! She would need an elevator to get eye to eye with him!

 _This is why you tolerated your last boyfriend. Even ground._

"I said my name is Ash!"

"Stash?"

"Ash!"

"You got fur, not a mustache!"

 _Oh...kill me._

Later, said fate. The clock implied still two more minutes.

"Hey...so...uh..." Daniel appeared to realize the sheer difficulty caused by the vertical problem. Ash's still visible facepalm shone a big light on this further. "Didn't I see you from somewhere?"

Ash normally didn't consider herself an aggressive person, contrary to the otherwise punk clothes she wore as her style. However, patience, buyer's remorse, and desperation all compiled into a silky bile at the utter absurdity of the situation. If this were the vanguard of things to come, then Ash would most likely break the amorous motifs off and start whacking the prospective dates on their heads in a complete abandon of control if the situation progressed as such.

She looked at the clock again. 1:45.

Ash got out of her seat, rounded the table where Daniel sat, grabbed at the base of his neck, and then pulled him down.

And down.

And down.

Needles curled into her mind. Her motion drew some attention, so forward and blatant, that even the waiters stopped to pass a glance. Daniel, more perplexed by the action than by the obvious hearing difficulties presented, gave off the most confused aura that could be mustered by the touch.

"Hi. I'm Ash. I don't have a mustache, and you need hearing aids."

"I do not!"

"Last I checked my quills didn't brush the top of the ceiling."

An argument bubbled. The complete mirror to passion and desire and common ground splinted the divide between them. The insult was a bit harsh because giraffes certainly couldn't help the neck department, but Ash merely tried to voice her own struggles with this.

She did still hate being single.

The clock flashed to 0:00. A buzzer flashed, and Ash let go of Daniel, shifting to the far end of her side.

The mystery started to peel back, and from under the bright lights, the easy-listening, romantically-priming music, and the damn blatant eye candy, cracks in the glass started to form. A soda waited in her glass. A dark chocolate candy escaped into the crevasse of her cheeks. Apparently, the waiters could guess age at a glance.

Even as the buzzer started to reset, in the previous seconds of hermit thought, the unease clawed at her from under her skin (it didn't help that the speakers actually started playing songs from Linkin Park). Again and again, milliseconds of quicksilver decision-making, the urge to bolt from her chair lest she embarrass herself clamped shut by equal embarrassment from the curious lookers that would see her leave. She still didn't know how much her celebrity gravitas held, as no one seemed to actually put two and two together. Daniel himself didn't pick up on it, though he had seen her at the auditions and had been at the concert (no way would she forget that long neck).

Her mind settled it long before she consciously mouthed the words. Better to stick it out.

A counting of heads followed, high and low on her side. She counted thirteen. Thirteen more awkward fumbles at trying to bridge the wants of the heart and status. Thirteen more smooth voyages that would leave her satisfied and her heart aflutter. Though in all honestly, exactly which one would come to pass, she wasn't certain. The next prospective date slid into his chair opposite from her, a surly looking beaver.

The cropping unease, the guardedness of a heart experienced to cheaters and generally urban life, welled up from inside. An attempted smile formed, remembering her own initiative to stick it out.

She just hoped she wouldn't regret it.

- _Sing_ -

Date #2: Beaver named Robbie. At the start of the five minute mark, Robbie seemed nice, but a little boring. Apparently he worked part-time to pay his college bills and dorms, having only started some time ago at San Francisco University. Without pausing for breath or even letting Ash get a word in edgewise, he started relaying all of his technical and mechanical interests. He talked about some website he intended to build, that was pending-

 _Lance tended to talk about those big dreams for months. Didn't seem to be in a hurry._

-pending, provided he got some funding for it. The bluster cascaded enough over Ash for four minutes. Ash wasn't even sure she properly introduced herself, as Robbie simply buffeted sentence after sentence. The mirror to Lance flexed a bit in her face, squinting bit by plexiglass bit, as he either covered his own uncertainty with a deluge of verbiage or was simply so full of himself that he didn't notice Ash's verbal absence. His niceties faded with each loaded sentence.

Ash thanked the Almighty when the buzzer sounded. At that point Robbie had turned to his cellphone.

Date #3 was a rooster named Lester. This one started out well enough, but nothing really reached out. Pleasantries actually were exchanged, Ash actually getting her name off (she was mildly surprised that the rooster seemed to not recognize her, but she pushed it away), but the conversation began to dip a bit after she told the rooster her punk rock interests. He seemingly balked, criticizing her tastes as 'diaper trash' and preached the virtues of orchestra music.

 _If I wanted to know the difference between a Jefferson and a Baumeister, I'd ask Johnny. But I wouldn't, because I don't give a damn._

Ash felt a sigh at the braying of the rooster. She felt almost compelled to pluck out her own phone, maybe plead with Meena to send a rescue text. The thought of dull TV rom-coms, waving from outside the door and the windows, flossed her teeth in agitation. She plopped her resolve as the rooster tried to ply something out of her, perhaps aware of the mistake he made.

The buzzer cramped the end. Lester looked a slight bit teed, but shuffled off.

Date #4 wasn't a guy at all. Ash raised an eyebrow at this heightening absurdity, at the slim, sexuality-question provoking cat winked at her, twitching ears and swaying tail.

"Uhhh...Hi."

"Hello and _meow_."

"Uhh...I'm...Ash."

"Ash...now that's a pretty name. You look like a princess without a tiara."

"Whoa, whoa, that's nice...that's actually nice..."

"So are you a linguist?"

"Come again?"

"Soon, sure. But are you?"

"I'd say I am."

"Oh...so inexperienced and pure..." Selma cooed- _cooed_ -at her. Her eyes seemed to darken, and the black lipstick, eye-liner, and gilded earring all flashed in the incandescent vortex. She leaned a bit forward. Ash was slightly caught off guard by the forwardness. "I can teach you some new languages, dear."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes." The dark chocolate seemed to roll around in her mouth as she whispered. Ash prayed that she wasn't getting turned on.

 _I like guys I like guys I like guys I like guys I like guys..._

 _But you won't be single..._

 _I like guys!_

"I like board games too, little Ashie."

"Well that's...nice."

"I like the one's that let you _turn_ other players. Let them play for _my_ team. Whaddya say?"

 _Oh damn. She's biting hard._

"Yes, I am," Selma quipped, as if reading her eyes. "Yes or no, my pure little princess?"

"I'm not _that_ pure...I like a little dirt on me."

"Come with me now and you'll get as dirty as you and I both want."

Ash's eyes bugged out. Selma got close enough her hot breath and languid perfume caressed her porcupine nose.

"Ready for me to crown you, princess?"

Buzzer sounded off. Divine intervention on hand.

"Well! Looks like we're out of time andyouneedtomoveonnowsooooooooobye!"

Selma simply mimed writing on the card, then did the 'call me maybe' signal. A playful smirk kept on her face as Date #5 showed up, preserving her sexuality.

If Selma made her uncomfortable because she threatened to turn her on like a high-powered vacuum, then Bubba (always a good sign when you meet someone in California that goes by 'Bubba'), amplified that lack of comfort by just intense focus. First off, the ox was huge, comparable to bulk as Daniel had been in height. He easily consumed the chair with his size, and Ash had to wonder if 'delay of game' applied every time he moved from chair to chair. But Bubba just leered at her from under a cowboy hat, hoofs clasped in thought and way overdressed for the occasion.

 _Or maybe I'm underdressed._

Ash flicked an eye back at Selma, who seemed bored yet engaging with her current mark. She wore a rather flattering, revealing dress that would be right at home in this place, as opposed to her own punk tastes.

"Well, I must say, you look mighty fine as wine."

"Uh, thanks. You as well." The lie wormed itself from her teeth. Something just told her no.

"So, how much you getting for Mr. Moon?"

Well, she kind of expected someone to recognize her, but this line of questioning caught her by surprise.

"Well, I figured if you could be getting some moola, sugar, then certainly you want a taste of the fine life. Little lady like you could use some pampering."

"Oh really?"

"My last girlfriend enjoyed the spa and the masseuse. Couldn't understand their damned accent, but they served the best legs." Bubba's eyes ventured a slight bit away from her face, trailing to under the table. Ash instinctively tucked her legs under.

"Girlfriend? What, she cheated on you?"

"Nah, you kiddin'?" He guffawed, shifting yet his eyes never leaving her. "I still got her up on dial. I'm a busy guy. I don't have time for the flowers and the feelings. No strings attached might as well be my middle name."

 _And I'm out._

"Doesn't matter if I cheat or they cheat anyway," He continued. "Switchable parts. We end up back together anyway."

"I can't say that. Sorry."

"That's fine. You just need some groomin'. I don't charge much for my tuition, kid, and my college don't break your back. Make you wobble in the morning, but I don't see any frowns." Bubba kept laughing to himself, proud of a joke that partially mortified Ash.

Ash glanced quickly at the clock. She still had fifteen seconds.

"So, how 'bout you, me, and crazy kitty over here go on out and-"

The buzzer cut him off. He didn't move immediately, instead, keeping a hand out.

"Might need to go."

"Answer my question, little lady."

"Uhh...no."

"So maybe."

" _No._ "

At that, even as the timer already started, Bubba finally moved at the waiters' behest. His eyes lingered a bit on her quills, Ash doing everything she could to ignore him. Whether her celebirty gravitas or just her got his attention passed her conscious processing. Instead, she took a swig of her soda and waited. She put on a brave face for Date #6, trying to adopt the shield to protect from any more of this knotted uncomfortableness.

Date #6, thankfully, seemed a little normal, but the strange fortune of the night reared its head again. Geoff, a sheep in a sweater, started off placating and pleasing.

"...So, weird place, eh?"

"Oh, I don't know. Its starting to grow on me."

"Do you know that cat down there?"

"Oh God I wish I didn't." _Now I'm going to have weird thoughts when I see mannequins in the mall_... _when I go there next..._

"She keeps looking over in this direction."

"Just ignore her. If you pay attention, it gives her power."

Geoff laughed.

"Didn't I see you at the concert?"

"Yeah, I performed for the Moon Theatre."

"I thought that was you!" He started laughing again.

"So, what do you do?"

The laughing, which strode into some higher decibels, caught on an edge. The hooting and guffawing turned to gasping, and Geoff started to grab for his pocket.

 _Oh you have got to be kidding me_.

He inhaled, but no air slapped through. The inhaler flipped and juggled through the air, smashing him in the head. Ash could feel her eyes roll at the increased stress, but she quickly downed all of her soda, jumped over the table to the ire of the patrons and workers, and nearly stuffed the inhaler down his throat. A few puffs later, he was back to normal.

"Thank...you..."

"Yeah. Yeah. No problem. Add amateur lifesaver to my resume, under aspiring guitarist and eye-candy."

He took the remainder of the time to catch his breath. The buzzer summoned everyone to switch chairs again, and Ash almost pitied herself. That mint chocolate seemed so much better with the dark chocolate tainting her mouth.

- _Sing-_

By now, as Date #13 started to sit in front of her, after an hour of these revolving personalities, Ash sank into her chair, pummeled by both the bombardment of attention, and an utter absence of reception. Despite the stumbling attempts at wordplay, connection to her dates evaded her. Buffeted by lines she wouldn't cross or offers she had no intention of keeping, boredom, shock, and disappointment claimed regent in her mind. She downed her umpteenth refill for the night, palm tucked under her chin in indolent consideration, as she waited for the last person to take his place.

Her card, meanwhile, looked like a hit list or a completed Christmas list. Though she barely had time to read the front, she had written the name of each person on the back, and crossed each name as they met, though for a different reason spelled out in brilliant red.

Daniel: Head in the clouds.

Robbie: Chucks too many words.

Lester: Hates rock. Really?

Selma: Loyalty to the Team.

Bubba: Sexual harassment charge in a week.

Geoff: Sucks too much air. Nice.

The first six had their volley of valleys and plains, but the whole batch, when accounting for the other six that came after, didn't as much shock as they did just erode her resolve. Even now, in the brief respite of the chairs being moved about, she didn't really feel a want to know any of these dates in an intimate setting.

Date #7, #8, and #9 all mimicked each other so well and so unintentionally that she barely remembered their individual names (Inky, Barney, and Clyde). Apparently, they all entered together, and they had almost matched clothes save for a simple palette swap. Inky wore a blue jersey, Barney wore a red jersey, and Clyde wore an orange jersey. They all were members of their local basketball team in college, but the three otters focused so much on sameness Ash expected she used the exact same words in response to the exact same questions. That she was good enough to remember their names and tell them apart thanks to hues surprised her. They all had remembered her, from the TV airing of the concert, and all three had asked if Buster had been casting. Their names ended up on the list quickly.

Inky/Barney/Clyde: All the same. Don't date triplets. No references.

Date #10 was a burly St. Bernard, tall, but square in proportions. Named Matthew, revealed himself as a former member of the Coast Guard and a current cop in training. He had a bit of age on her, though, and his statements, despite the fact that he explicitly stated he didn't care about being eleven years her senior, came out as unintentionally condescending. But he let her take the lead at the halfway mark.

"So, uh...tell me what you do."

"I rock out."

"Well, everyone knows that. You performed live. Young star is born and everything. I'm asking, what do you do _other_ than that?"

Her mouth opened for a witty rebuttal, only to realize she lacked ammunition. She stopped instantly, a little shocked. Apart from the throes of her guitar and the hours spent at the movie theatre, the blue walls of her apartment consumed her and her life. Playing the guitar, rocking out, and becoming a legitimate rock star had been a big part of her life moving forward, but Lance had taken such a large portion of her life beforehand that filling that time with something else darn near stupefied her. Lance dictated her actions, but so many memories birthed from their love.

"Hobbies?"

 _Uh…_

"Pasttimes?"

 _Drawing a blank here…_

"Do you have favorite shows? Things that you 'geek' out to?"

 _No! I'm not a nerd!_

"Well, if you have nothing," Matthew said after a bit of dogged silence, "Maybe you need to develop it. No one's going to be interested in you if you're shallow and plastic."

 _Tell me you didn't just compare me to Becky._

Again, Matthew didn't seem in the least realizing what he was doing wrong. He just talked openly, and matter-of-factly. When the buzzer rang out again, he nodded to her in gratitude, and wished her well. His name ended up on the card in seconds.

Matthew: Speaks softly and hits with a big stick.

Date #11 stood out, but in the best way so far. A lanky, grey raccoon had sidled into the chair next. A cane and tuxedo

"Hey, I'm Sly. How's it going?"

"Ash. Hey."

"Ah, c'mon. It can't be that bad."

"Really? You had it bad on your end?"

"Well," The raccoon named 'Sly', stroked his chin, pretending to think, but his mischievious demeanor brought a bright spot in her. "I've known a girl I've danced with before nearly kill me, so, yeah. But oh, you mean here? Nah. My buddies just wanted me to get out of the hotel for a bit, so I came down here on a dare. Some interesting gals here."

"So what do you do?"

"I'm a thief."

Ash almost laughed at the stone-cold delivery of a whopper. Sly seemed intent on playing around, making the date as ludicrous as he could with his own verbiage. Ash winked and took the hint, even though the wink wasn't returned.

"So, what? You've come to steal my heart?"

"Only if you want to." He smirked, as if he was hiding some secret and couldn't wait to let it out. "But I'll be out to Paris tomorrow, so…maybe not. But I got to see San Francisco for the past couple of weeks. I think I saw you on the TV a couple of days ago. Great rhythm, you got."

"Really,"

 _Should I really keep stringing this guy along? I mean, I know he's full of it, but…_

Easy choice in the end.

"Tell me more."

"Well, there was this one time in Mesa City when I sneaked into a casino by some pit boss…guy had no business sense and scared all his customers away…"

Sly regaled more of his whopping story, carefully thought out Ash almost believed for a second he had been there, and done all that. While his swagger, unlike the previous dates, had been slightly endearing in the humility shadowing it, he believed his own hype to the point of daydreams.

 _Seriously, if he was this world-class thief, why the hell would he come into this place?_

"Well, darling, look at that grin. Look my job's done." He said as the buzzer sounded off. "Toodles. I'll buy a CD when you get it done. Just remember I'm spoken for."

She blushed slightly at the compliment, and jotted in red on the back of her card.

Sly: Almost stole my heart, but someone took his.

Date #12 was a walrus named William, whose bulk nearly outdid Bubba's, but whereas Bubba creeped out Ash and backed it up in pure muscle, William irked Ash with his obscene blubber. Apparently, he worked as a carpenter, and he willingly listened to Ash as she told her own troubles. By this time the stress had started to hook into her speech, and sarcastic barbs more than once (a bit impolitely) struck out from her tongue. Jousts at his fat folds falling from the chair and if he tested his furniture by sitting in it first had flown. She could feel Rosita's frown at the caterwauls. William seemed affronted, but civility flowed easily enough from him, despite an obsession with his champagne.

Willie: Death from suffocation due to hugs.

None of them made her feel warm like Lance, or even like herself. Instead, they all adamantly forced her into a costume of their choosing, bending her with words to get the sleeves of the suit on.

"Hello." A sweet voice called out.

"Hi. I'm Ash. What's your history?"

"Hey, Ash. I'm Johnny."

Electrodes in her head sparked back to life. Her soda glass crashed to the floor. Eyes, downtrodden before but hopeful now, spurred back up. Ears tied to the brain, cashing in on the memory banks as she made the necessary receipt.

Johnny, dressed in his familiar leather jacket but donning a slightly nicer shirt, waved from the other side of the table. A kindred, friendly smile, reassuring and one expectant of hopeful people stuck in crises, beamed at her. A part of her melted, her face falling akin to when Mike dazzled or Meena sang or when she first met Lance. Not infatuation, though she knew a good looking fellow when she saw one, but from relief. In the background she thought she heard an angelic choir raining down its beautiful music at the arrival of a guardian in that gorilla (she did a quick peek and saw that a choir actually was performing under the Jack of Hearts). A smile overflowed from her scrunched face. Stress faded, ebbed like the tide, and she suppressed a laugh to not scare Johnny off.

"So...rough night?"

Ash's face said it more than her tongue. She smiled, but the corners wobbled.

"So, tell me about yourself, miss..." Johnny winked. The curtain on the play rose in her head, and she winked back, slightly relieved.

"Ash. Rocker, a song writer, all-around awesome. Just got done with a song not too long ago."

"Really?" Johnny said. The emotion sounded real, despite the fact that he already knew that intimate fact. Perhaps the deed was just that impressive. "Well that's great! I'm a bit of a singer myself, but I prefer the soulful stuff. Blows the mind. Still working on the piano though. Uh, what do your songs cover?"

Ash smiled. For the first time that night a sense of warmth eclipsed the anxiety of novelty and risque suggestion. Unlike Lance, it didn't burn at the end, but invigorated. Familiarity, not the crushing boulder that bent the back of expectations with unkempt resignation, but the gentle breeze of gratitude and unconditional acceptance, assuaged her.

"Well, my first song's about my ex-boyfriend. He was a bit of a jerk. Nice at first, but...when you catch your boyfriend cheating..." She gave a shrug.

"I've had a bit of that before."

"Really? You think you can top that?"

A goofy smile played on his lips. The script was known by both parties, yet the act still was on. "Well, my past looks like a comic book hero's. Still, Dad wants to me to keep doing the singing, as do I."

"Wanna take me to your next performance?" The banter was light, jesting, but her eyes, having still felt the weight of being worn down by this flamboyant place, pleaded with him.

"Absolutely."

The relief, warm in its flows, cascaded over her dwarfed body. Despite the blur of chatter, the banter transformed into something with more meat, something Ash could sink her teeth into and feel that sense of achievement. The relentless hammers striking on the nails that were heart, head, and patience, shifted slightly, ever missing and striking something effervescent. Johnny shifted from the familiar and started telling stories of London, of the majesty of Big Ben and Buckingham Palace, but didn't seem as keen on the Beatles as she might have expected. Ash bit in further, asking about the classic rockers from there: Black Sabbath, Mick Jagger, and the Who. He regaled the obvious (he never met them), but he loved the classics as much as the next bloke.

She in turn, regaled herself.

"I'm straight out of Oakland. But Oakland's not exactly primetime, so I figured San Fran would be the best place."

"You wanted the bright lights? Doesn't seem your type."

"Well," Ash shrugged her shoulders, annoyed that she got pegged so easily. "My ex-boyfriend pushed it. We did some gigs together, and then we parted. But if it wasn't for his prodding, I might not be here making my music."

She felt the boundary between the real and the pretend slipping with the mention of Lance. Lance's presence in her own history reminded her of the indelible stamp he left behind, in the fact that, _yes_ , he had pushed for them to get out of Oakland and go to San Francisco for the spotlight. Sure, they started at the bottom, with only each other and pooled resources to barely make it, but the road had created good as well as bad moments. She nibbled on a straw at the recollection.

"Sounds like he made a mistake."

Ash turned.

"Why would anyone dump you?"

A blush burned on her cheeks. The praise was foreign, and sincere. She chalked it up to Johnny's unfailing politeness.

"I mean, look at you!" Johnny gestured. "You made it with all these things on your back! Why wouldn't anyone be interested in you?"

She tried to fight down the embarrassed smile. Tried to fight down the warmth at his exclamations and flattery. A hand raised slightly, pampered by the whisperings of past Lance, trying to shield that genuine joy that threatened to erupt. Warmth returned as a spring gale. Not the intensity of infatuation, not the worship of love, not the mania of bodily lust, but content, tranquil joy. She thanked him under her breath.

Johnny continued on. "We all have our issues, Ash. I got more issues than most comic book stores, with my dad. But you and I keep on keeping on. Even if we're wet behind the ears to all the bright lights. You're just fantastic. Imagine what you'll be tomorrow."

 _Oh Lord if he doesn't stop I might just kiss him..._

Her muscles literally wouldn't release her smile. She, for a moment, had someone looking at her, _for her._ After all the crap she listened to for the past hour, it made her feel like an inferno.

"So, it looks like we're almost out of time." Johnny said.

Ash meanwhile looked to Johnny's right, and saw Daniel's long neck. That meant they were almost done with this marathon. A hammer smote her gut.

"Maybe." She stretched out the word. The buzzer sounded, heralding the finish line to the whole mess. The maitre'd, her sultry tone absent for the whole time, slithered back into the picture.

"All right, boys and girls...now that everyone's had a turn, please look at your card. Fill out which of the dates you want to go with for the night. Those who want a room upstairs, well, we'll get that all ready for you with the pillows and plush. But if you prefer something a little cooler, we got that ready too...

"Everyone's had a number, so pick and choose the date you want the most. Hit your buzzer when your done. Ties are broken by the tiebreaker. To the victor goes the spoils...and _everything else_..."

Ash's fingers moved like a guitarist on Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Free Bird", jotting Johnny's name down as the absolute answer. A temporary threat of bodily harm surfaced, given the marathon of today, but she squashed it down. She noted that there was also a spot for "Date Liked Least". She left it blank, given the criticisms she left on the other side. The cards were all scooped up, cast away for some private ballot, but the names came in fast enough.

"Well, well, looks like we have a very sought after suitor, a natural Adonis in our midst. 13 marks. Popular much, Mr. Johnny?"

Johnny's face now burned slightly, as if fully aware of the surprise crouching on his head. Ash turned slightly to hide her mirth at his expense, but a chilly realization, that she might end up with someone else-

"Ash? Ready to go?"

His burly hand extended from the other side of the table. Glowing and reverberating off the ocean of lights, pinks clashing with black, whites clashing with brown, it turns, open, offering, compliant, and patient. Ash's teasing faded instantly at Johnny's gentle choice, choosing her over what else he had to endure to get to the end of this sprint. The choking hearts surrounding them ebbed from conscious, Johnny's gravitas shielding it. There wasn't anything openly amorous, just genteel and chivalrous, in his behavior, nothing sexually forward or deceitful in the vein of pick-up artists. He extended his hand out to her, their respective final dates, and courteously asked for a retreat.

Ash couldn't contain her smile, and almost shyly took his hand. Nothing romantic yet hinting at romance. Not the choking Eros expected of tomorrow, but something platonic and serene in the present. A friend for a friend.

Maybe a boyfriend?

"Sure. Lets blow this joint."

Ash spared no glance to the other dates, even as the balloons dribbled finally from above as the others were lumped into their own pairings. She cared none if they bonded or not. The petite porcupine roped an dainty arm under Johnny's massive one, leaving the fluorescent lust shining down in the Jack of Hearts Hotel. There was something genuine, pounding in her chest and shadowing her.

She did hear the last chord from the singers, as the crooner again stepped up with another of Sinatra's classics:

"Each day, is Valentine's...Day..."

At least she wasn't single.

 _Right?_

- _Sing: End chapter_ -


	3. Part 3

Disclaimer: Sing (2016) is under the ownership of Illumination Entertainment. Under no circumstance do I make any profit off of this.

Author's Note: So, here's the finale, almost into March afterward. I hope you all enjoyed this little piece that I've labored over. I have a curious point to make afterwards, but that will be at the end. So enjoy the third part.

 _Jack of Hearts Hotel_

 _Chapter 3_

 **February 13th evening...**

Exiting a hotel she had no intention of ever returning to, Ash felt like fizz rising on her sodas. Chugging as many as she did, she giggled, the caffeine trolling her in spite of her situation. Happiness colored her face, twisting into a gleeful smile, but it wasn't all just from the soda.

Her arm looped under Johnny's, as they left that Valentine's Day choked hotel (though if she had to guess, the pillows in the rooms were heart-shaped). She already made a point to not go back in there, dealing with enough embarrassment from the sheer conga line of potential 'dates'. The wounding thought, worming up into her head, actually told her the problem. Luck favored her, as Johnny had literally the pick of everything, if the maitre'd was to be believed. And Johnny chose _her_.

Another thought nibbled at the back: How many would have chosen _her_?

Surely someone else?

The faces flashed back, swishing under the pop fizz flood. Daniel, whom she insulted with brute force? Sly, who did the thing only for fun and admitted to being spoken for? Geoff, who didn't interest her? Selma, a slut conniving for sex? Bubba, who she'd get a restraining order for before the night was over?

None of them got her attention, but were they equally repulsed?

Her face fell briefly, but she forced the corners of her lips to turn back up. She didn't wait for an answer from the maitre'd, but she was desirable. She knew she was. After all, Johnny chose her.

And these other guys weren't her type anyway.

She found a strange sense of glee, harbored on that fizz and dark chocolate, as they continued on. Johnny most certainly was her type: She grinned, loopy with the caffeine kicking in another gear. Though another questionable thought nibbled at the back of her brain...

"Johnny."

"Hhm?"

"Not that I'm not happy you're here but...why were you in there?"

Night had long fallen. The stores and vendors, even the ones staying open late for those desperate sorts that needed the flowers in the morning, had been barred shut. Other couples, ranging from the youthfully infatuated to the old, glowing husbands and wives, wandered the streets, happy in the radiance of their significant others. The movements, pressing onto each other, was natural, keen, and warm, even just by Ash looking. They basked in the wonders of love that they knew by faith and trust, and even if they could go anywhere they wanted, they still preferred the warmth of their significant other.

Ash remembered that feeling so well. Longed for it even now. Lance and she embraced together in the apartment on late nights, making fun of old Japanese movies with stupid dubbing and cuddled when the power went out. That warmth came to her when they held hands and sat on the roof of the apartment, watching animals do stupid things from below. That warmth intensified when she coaxed him out of the dingy underbelly of bars and nightclubs, finding a quite place to see the stars in his eyes. She would kiss him them, overpowered by the urge and the radiance of love.

How that abandonment slit through her. But she had that back, right?

Johnny remained quiet. Ash couldn't help but notice the complete contrast. If it were Lance's arm that she had looped, he would've kissed her cheek, or kissed the nape of her neck, or grabbed her ass, and she would've squealed at all of it. If Lance tried that now, she would've beaten his head in with a cafeteria tray. At least, she would've eventually.

Johnny, however, did none of that. While he smiled and remained courteous, that was it. His massive hands didn't explore her, instead chained like a gentleman. While she appreciated the gesture, she wondered just what those hands could do.

"Johnny."

"Oh, yes?"

"I know you could proposition any girl on any street corner. Heck, you could've done this uptown. So, _why_ would the nicest gorilla I know be in a place that caters to guy like _that_?"

Johnny fidgeted. Ash could see a tell when she saw one. Her sugar high threatened to plummet as the silence from her gorilla maybe-boyfriend expanded.

"Well, it is Valentine's Eve..."

"Johnny. Be straight with me," She threw some bed-room eyes, lamenting that she had gone a bit light on the eye-liner.

"Uh..."

"I know you could walk into any building in San Fran and get any girl you want. So, unlock your mouth and spill. Why. Were you. In there?"

The discomfort, of containing a secret valiantly held but doing so to protect a friend, reverberated from Johnny, despite keeping himself in check, despite the fact that his own body radiated this contentment. Ash could feel that warmth, effervescent yet solid, through that characteristic jacket. Though Ash would on her best days consider herself a genius in a few niches, she could tell that he held back. A flash of the criminal background- he had been completely closed off on that front, and rightfully so- screened through her mind, but the thought was trashed as soon as it surfaced. Johnny, who had not a mean bone in his body in spite of having more heists under his name than initiated gang members, held the cards close to his chest, yet she could easily see that he was hiding something.

The brief rise of sugar and color, where even she started to like the pinks and whites and reds lazily held high between streetlights, leveled out and threatened to bottom out. The high she felt, the satisfaction and glee of washing her paws and getting that Facebook status switched back to where she felt she belonged (because being single _sucked_ ), ebbed, evaporated, and crashing into the pit of her stomach. Her face fell, crumbling like old clay, and her eyes shrank while her pupils grew. The windows showed a face ghosting that of what Becky and Lance threw at her.

 _Please don't tell me this is a prank please don't tell me this is a prank..._

Johnny rubbed the back of his head. Another tell. Guilty, Ash decided. But of what?

"Uh, Mike told you about this place..." He phrased it like a question, yet there was no question behind it. Ash nodded, her glee continuing to skydive.

"Ok. We heard it. All of it. For a little mouse, he's certainly loud. That...and, Rosita kinda interrogated him."

If her face were glass, she would've heard the complete breakage of her face. No one else was supposed to know that she had been here, as just going to such a place (after all, Mike knew of it) made her feel slimy. It painted her in such dismal, black lights-

"Rosita wanted to make sure you were all right. She couldn't go, Gunter's on a different team, and Meena's underage, so I got sent. Good call. Looked like you were having a bad time."

Whatever glee her face proudly portrayed, all vanished by the admission. It hadn't mattered what reasons Johnny had been there, only that he had _chosen_ her. But she should've known! Why would Johnny had been there in the first place?

 _Does that mean that...all that he said...was...garbage?_

Johnny turned to her, upset that the cat was out of the bag, but relief briefly bedazzled his face. Said relief visibly melted as he looked at Ash. All her sugary happiness, buffeted by soda and the dark chocolates and further buoyed by the priming Valentine's Day decorations around town, turned to stormy turmoil. Instead of carrying her happiness on placid, zany strings by those red and pink and white balloons, they mocked her again, practically grinning with a buck tooth. The flowers, the ones still laid on display that hadn't been picked bare from flurries of boyfriends, seemed to curl within themselves. Roses hadn't been something Ash had ever received, given Lance's tastes, but for a brief moment she _wanted_ one, in her own tumult.

"Ash?"

Despite her arm still being looped with Johnny's, it lost its strength, more gripping like it hung off a cliff than in welcome grasp. Her legs bobbled, losing the strength of certainty, and her face fought with the necessity of a tough exterior. A power rushed her, heartened by the almost facetious brightness surrounding her. Everything of that damn-it-all holiday seemed to be celebrating, but it was a private party with a humongous picket fence. The ushers burned, mutilated, and slashed to ribbons her ribbon to that party and just teased her with a great, great, guy like Johnny on her arm and she didn't want to let go and she just _didn't want to go to her apartment alone right now..._

Her drab apartment, littered with the memories of her previously failed relationship and the pinched struggles of her creative efforts. The labors of finding beats and lyrics to wow the next crowd and the absence of an intimate support pillar, substituted by caffeine-laden confections and hope in the pit of her stomach. The envy of looking outside, seeing happy couples of all species and tastes, and wanting that again, by whatever means. Her apartment shone as a beacon to her immediate past, and she didn't want to spend Valentine's Day in there alone. With someone else, absolutely. But not by herself.

That realization crippled her rationale. Tears threatened her defenses. Damn it to heck she wouldn't cry here. Johnny didn't deserve that.

"Ash?"

She breathed, slowly. Trying to cut the power down on the waterworks. Trying to push past the bluster that couldn't be real. Doing everything in her power to _not look_ at Johnny's handsome eyes or register those palms or smell the sweet worn leather on his jacket.

A hand reached out to her head, careful for her quills. A slight movement in the wrist bade her to look.

"No."

"Ash? What's wrong?"

"No..."

"Ash."

Between the distress pounding inside her ears and his sweet accent caressing the door open from without, she had no chance. Her eyes clenched shut, trying to will away all of the clapping fury of the day. The joy of getting out of the single designation on her census form and the reveal that this was crap prank: it pummeled her resolve, her guard sufficiently lowered by hope to be sliced. She wanted to resist. She wanted to let loose her damn quills for all of this.

But he didn't deserve that.

She let him slowly turn her head towards him. Those stunning eyes of brown chocolate almond peered into her heart, shocking her, accusing her, worried about her. She told all those from that, struggled to pull away, but he remained firm.

"Ash...what's wrong?"

"Was everything you said..." The words hitched in her mouth. All that joy, spattered on the sidewalk.

Johnny held a single large finger to her lips. She saw the understanding before she could finish her statement. She hoped she saw tenderness and honesty as well, but the racketing emotions of everything buffeted her enough.

"Ash. I meant everything I said back there. You are phenomenal. Simply phenomenal."

Again, everything slid back up like an elevator on her heart. She couldn't help a break in the wall, a small smile, uncertain as sunflowers in winter, shining through. She couldn't help her paw grip to his jacket, her body inching forward slightly. She couldn't help the hunger of her heart trump up, demanding satiation. She couldn't help the urge to jump the gun, Johnny's burly arm the only thing holding her back from leaping and kissing him. Her other paw danced furiously, rifting the air as if she was playing a new song, demanding to be set free. The verbal seal of approval broke through the mocking lights and colors. And she wanted to pay it back.

Ash breathed. Another set free.

Johnny continued, releasing his hold on her head, unaware of the turmoil in her.

"Ash. What Lance did to you was...bollocks. You're too awesome for that kind of riff-raff." Ash could feel herself getting taller from the praise. "Any guy would be blessed to be around someone like you."

She turned away again, the unabashed, unrequested praise clashing with opinions old. The smile she was trying to control, faltering in joy based on approval of the sincerest sort, shone through. Her paws brushed against her alternative clothes, but happiness at being appreciated, at being wanted, beamed into her head. Thoughts, crinkly, glassy bits that clawed at her mind, faded to a white and pink ease. Her smile grew to genuine proportions.

Johnny noticed.

"And you got quite the smashing smile."

 _That does it_.

She didn't notice her arm detach from under his, releasing into her own. The decision passed so fast that government would be inspired by the speed, but she operated on auto. With barely a consideration, her blue eyes locked on his face, his almond eyes, his innocent look, especially those lips...the crosshair focused with ease, and she took the shot.

She leapt onto him, discounting his expression's shifting. Discounting that his face changed from sincere praise to confusion to realization under a second. She registered that on the subconscious, basking in his praise, in his acknowledgment of her, that she acted on initiative. She got a damn good height, waiting for his arms to encircle, waiting for him to match lips for lips. Her eyes drooped to half-mist, paws reaching for the back of his head, quills actually letting out a barrage behind her. Balloons popped.

She never reached him.

Despite the burst assisted by hormones, Johnny was quicker. A pair of strong hands caught her in mid-air, easily hoisting her like a football. Her lips pathetically puckered up, trying to catch lips herself, but they barely reached the top of his forehead.

A complete miss. An epic fail.

Her eyes bolted wide open. Azure meeting surprised almonds. She couldn't read what he was thinking, even as he set her gently down. He could see confusion, but...was there annoyance under that?

 _I can't tell..._

Just as fast as that elevator went up, the chains cut loose and she crashed down in embarrassment. The careful smile she bore disappeared under that sheen, deafened by the thunderous bang of her happiness. The heavy gamble failed in the worst way, and she turned, immediate retreat in her mind. If Johnny had moved his hand from his shoulder, he would have been gone, disappeared for the night. Even now that damn mint chocolate ice cream serenaded her from her apartment, wooing her with the attempts of false hope...and other heady concepts.

Her feet turned in the direction of her apartment, intent on fleeing, intent on bombing the day into that 'Worst Day Ever' box, and not even dreaming the consequences of her gamble. Her reluctant hand reached up to a giant finger, trying to to release the hold.

Ash knew that she lacked the sheer strength of Johnny, so if he decided to keep his hand on her shoulder, she wouldn't be able to break it. She pushed all the same.

Instead of letting go, Johnny leaned forward, both arms encircling her petite body. The giant embrace consumed her, the jacket warming her, smoothing out her emotions with the soothing heat of a sauna. The elevator forcibly pulled itself up, jerked skyward by the herculean strength of a young, dashing, gorilla with a cute accent. She shivered in bends, trying to figure which way to go, fleeing in mortification or just blasting it all to heck and trying again and-

 _What the hell is wrong with me?_

Valentine's Day still was a plague. Never would she act this way towards Johnny. Despite how much of a great catch he was, despite how much of a dear friend he was, there was that line between. She had vaulted well over that line, and that friendship shattered like porcelain glass. But she felt so _warm_ , wrapped like a heart-shaped box in Johnny's arms. The moment, the schism of ferocious contrasts, she wanted to linger on until dawn: Standing, steadfast and stalwart, warm and protected and wanted, in his arms. A mania to kiss him combated a surly, cynical spear, holding reason and the promise of February 15, and what would transpire because of the actions today. Reason battled emotion, trying to keep tears and desperation and lust or pretentious lust under a lid of red wrapping and punk rock.

The tears dribbled out. Not bawling, like she would definitely be doing if she were in her apartment with her rom-com movies, but she was saddened by all of it. Johnny, in the seconds passing, shielded her under his leather jacket, keeping any possible passersby from interrupting a delicate moment. If he had any inkling to what was transpiring in her mind, he never said anything.

"Ash?"

"...what?" She tried to be strong. The crushing embarrassment of it all wounded any attempt at erecting the wall, her guard so effectively destroyed. Annoyance slipped out, but it was fake. Already, she intended to run the moment he let her go.

"Uh...what was that?"

She didn't have an answer. What could she say? That she was crazy in love (She wasn't. As much as she tried to pump up the emotions, it _wasn't the same as Lance_ )? That she made a mistake (possibly hurting Johnny's feelings in addition to her own)? That hormones and aliens briefly took over her mind and forced her to jump at his face like some sci-fi horror show in a suit?

The words for that last point almost formed into the air before Johnny, ESP-powered Johnny, entered again. He kissed her on the forehead, trying perhaps to get her jumbled nerves to settle down-anything to settle down- and she turned eye to eye. Tears dried on her face, she locked blues to almond again, with those damn pink and white ribbons over his head.

"Ash. I love you,"

Her heart stopped at that, but trembled at the realization. There was an attachment to that, the proverbial fine print.

"You're a dynamite lass and all, but...I'm not sure about...this."

His hand tapped his heart, trying to convey the simplicity of the situation. And she knew that truth, as much as she wanted to speedily throw that evidence away in the wake of passion and removing the ledger of her martial status. He continued.

"Ash. Are you that...lonely?"

She could barely answer. Lies were out of the picture, as Johnny (and if what he said was true, the rest of the group) didn't deserve any of that. But the truth hurt worse. That she would do all of this in the name of trying to forge something meaningful and warm and enjoyable...in setting herself free, she saw that she had no tether. What could she say?

Her face scrunched. The petite smile that broke out earlier died, hindered by a grimace of uncertainty. Her paws betrayed that diffidence, confidently digging into the sleeves of the gorilla that chose her over 12 over dates, torn and pulled in two directions.

"I don't...know."

Johnny raised an eyebrow, then looked down. Ash followed those cute almonds' path, right to her hands, still digging. She reluctantly removed them.

"I...I..."

Johnny raised a hand, then pointed to a bench nearby, intent on leading her there. She followed, eyes darting and hand desperate to lace back into her own and brain just trying to figure out where the loss of control came from. He leaned by a streetlight, as she tried to compose herself.

"So, what's wrong?" He started again. Never did she heard annoyance, or irritation, or boredom. His attention locked on her, caring perched on his face. Ash's confidence frazzled and rent into frantic fanaticism, postulated by the heart. She could feel it crumbling under the weight of his saintly concern.

"I just...I miss the little things." She lamely admitted.

The exact words, the exact reason, that she _hated_ being single, and that everyone seemed so happy with their plus-ones, _that_ she kept under lock and key. Despite the fact she wouldn't take Lance back if the fate of the world depended on it, she missed what had been there. There had been a time when Lance adored her (she hoped), and she returned that love unconditionally. When they had been good for each other, wrapped in the glow of their consummate love and where the most minor of things mattered more because it was just _them_. Watching horribly bad dub movies from Japan with him had been a cherished joy, tinged now by the split. Going to the dingy bars and rocking out and wearing the clothes that got Lance's appreciation and the kisses and the cuddles and simply waking up and seeing his face...she missed all of that.

Never mind that she was free. There were plenty of times that the cold sheets on the other side of her bed taunted her.

"Little things?"

"When I was with...my ex...it had been swell...at times. I just wanted to get that...back."

"If I hadn't been there, you would've went with a complete stranger. Or no one at all." Johnny succinctly stated.

All the faces of the roster that she _could_ have ended up with ran through her mind. Her knees buckled as if she was punched, and she had to concede Johnny's point. How would her night had ended if Selma or Bubba or William or Robbie or Matthew had chosen her? How would her night had ended if _no one_ chose her? For the latter, she would've answered the call of her mint chocolate ice cream, devouring it in sadness and crying into her pillow. For the former? She shuddered to think. Selma would've tried to initiated her into the other team, and Bubba...

She could feel a flash of her broken body on the evening news tomorrow. Matthew would've been decent, but bland. Robbie would've worn thin, frayed like her acid jeans. William would've suffocated her from his massive fat folds.

 _But someone is better than no one...right?_

"Ash. I'm not much on this dating thing, but I think you need more than five minutes for such a thing. Would you really have stayed with those chuckle-heads if they chose you? You're a little too tough to tie down."

"Well..."

"Ash. I stand by what I say. You are bloody phenomenal. But none of those guys would've treated you right. They're just the next version of Lance. I don't want that for you."

Her heart pulsed at his touching admission. The urge to jump (because seriously, what kind of guy says such good things with a straight face?) pounded into her, and she reined it in. Reluctantly.

"I mean, is not having a boyfriend that much worse than having a wanker that doesn't appreciate you?"

Johnny, as far as Ash knew, had never been in a relationship, but despite his own absence from the game, he had surprisingly straight views. Ash balanced out the emotions in her head, trying to pull down the furor from hormones stoked from Valentine's Day. She remembered standing proudly yet bashful in front of dozens of strangers, singing her own song, her watershed moment for the world. She remembered the second morning after she kicked out Lance, decorated not by ripping their photos or trashing his PS4 or burning his old shoes, but unconsciously making breakfast for two and realizing after she plated the food that Lance wasn't there (Gunter at least thanked her for the grub later that day). She remembered the good times with Lance, goofy and frivolous as they might've been, and the snide, sliding remarks she brushed off. Rosita telling her how she was far better off without him, and the crushing agony she felt despite the encouragement.

And she remembered the morning after the Moon Theatre reopened. Ash, rolling over her bed, a hand unconsciously looking for a boyfriend that her brain had to remind her wasn't there, had been kicked out, and she could not take back nor easily replace. There was just her and her axe and her next songs. None of the sleeping kisses demanded by the flashing TVs and the sobbing romance movies. None of the empowering moments that she remembered or expected. None of the cuddles late in the morning. Just her.

As fast as those thoughts rolled, Johnny waited patiently. Ash smiled, realizing that yes, he had a point. Damn it, she wanted to kiss him.

"So...what now? Looks like you just hit on something," Johnny asked.

"I could kiss you." She said. Then her face flushed.

 _Damn it! I didn't mean to say that out loud!_

Johnny, at least, laughed but shared in the embarrassment of her forward thinking. "I'm...maybe some other time, but...Ash, I'm flattered, but...I can't take advantage of you."

"I know. I just...you're really amazing, Johnny."

"Thanks-"

"And I'm saying that in the most non-romantic way I can, so bear with me."

"'So right."

"And maybe sometime later...you can take-"

"Ash." Johnny stopped, polite but firm. The train of thought was collecting tickets as they spoke. "I can't call you my girl today. Maybe another day, after we actually got to know each other and everything, but...not now. Not that bloody boldly."

Ash stonewalled.

"Give it time. Please."

She felt her paws fumble together, trying to find some degree of compromise that would lead her to getting what she was seeking. However, all her desperation fell to the cold logic of the present sphere. Johnny, thankfully, shrugged off her advances and remained her friend, despite her trying to force the issue. She wasn't going to try that twice, no matter how much she didn't want to go home alone. Those adorable almonds, threatening to melt her stone resolve right now...

"Johnny." She played around with her paws a bit more. "Can I hug you?"

The gorilla raised an eyebrow.

"I swear I'm doing this as a friend and not some crazy planned attempt to get laid. I am going to hug you because you are my friend. I am not hugging you so its easier to grab your sexy ass. I'm sexually frustrated, you've freaking helped me out today, and I've been a crazy bitch tonight. So let me thank you."

Johnny laughed under his breath, shining in her honesty. He opened his arms, allowing Ash to encircle her petite form around his waist. Ash forced her willpower not to snake an hand or two on his chest or on his rear as she said she wouldn't, doing something completely, completely platonic. He smelled nice, a hint of cologne for the facade on his jacket.

After a moment, she let go, cursing herself and hormones commanding her to grab something of the merchandise. She resisted, but frowned at the allure.

"C'mon. I'll walk you home. You can tell me about yourself a bit more."

"No. You first."

"Ah come on-"

"I'm serious. I barely know anything about you other than you got English roots, you skateboard, and your dad's in jail."

"Well...there's some other things..."

"Didn't you say you were trying to go to college?"

"Well, I was looking into the humanities-"

Their conversation buoyed on the night air, shifting past all sorts of the Valentine's Day décor. That she was single, in that moment, faded from her consciousness. She didn't mind for the moment, content in her freedom and her friend. Valentine's Day could wait for the dawn.

- _Sing_ -

 _February 14_ _th_ _..._

Ash woke on February 14th the same way she woke on February 13th. Absent a bedfellow, she rolled over, and resumed the beginnings of the day. The radio trucked out its classic love songs, and love in its purest choking mania dominated the air.

Outside was more the same, with even more desperate boyfriends scurrying about trying to get their girls the necessary gifts to save their collective asses. The creamy colors of pink and white and red filtered about almost subliminally, trying to get the attention for the sake of last bargain sales. She wondered if Lance was mooching off Becky getting him hearts for the day. At the same time, she really didn't care, but last night had banished the whole thing. The boyfriends were dropping so much money it could be called high-way robbery.

Ash could give a whole middle finger and a half towards that. Her coffee suited her mood better, looking forward to another day of working on the stage and throttling Mike for sending her to the Jack of Hearts Hotel. While she wouldn't turn down a few roses...or maybe something else...

The warmth from the blankets nipped from her body as her throat warmed in contrast. Being single still _sucked_. Even though she agreed with every single thing Johnny said regarding how bad those 'chuckle-heads' were or would be, the fact remained that she left as she entered.

The coffee disappeared and she looked to her counter, at her cellphone. Johnny had at least given her his phone number. They still had some time before it was time to go help...right?

Having put time and space between them, Ash actually got a chance to think about her emotions with regard to Johnny. Was he handsome? Hell yeah. Was he a catch? Double hell yeah. Was he kind and generous and a damn good person? A lot more four-letter words would work for that gleeful response. Johnny was a rare breed, the complete opposite to the reveal that was Lance or the jokers that frequented the Jack of Hearts Hotel. He had been so good to her (and the rest of the Moon troop, if Johnny's words were correct), and regardless of how much she wanted to wake up in the morning and see her own beloved (whoever that was) on the other side, she would not force it.

Did she have a boyfriend?

No.

Did she have Johnny? As a friend?

She'd like to think so.

Ash flipped out her phone. Her fingers danced across the numbers, dialing his number.

"Hey, Johnny."

"Oh, hey Ash. Morning to you." His cute accent rolled out, making that part of her that desperately wanted to eliminate her single status rise again. A painful grimace forced it back down.

"You doing anything today? I mean, after helping out at the theater."

"Later?"

"Well. You're single. I'm single. Lets go hang out as stoked out singles."

"All right. After work. So, you get any flowers?"

Ash laughed a bit. Yesterday she would've felt like crap at the jest, but today...she felt fine. She was single, but maybe not for long.

"So, what do wanna do today?"

Buster would wonder why Ash was late, but the simplicity of the banter, of just getting to know one another and enjoying the pleasure of ones company, even if separated over a cellphone, made her tardiness worth it.

Somehow, she could tell things were ok. The nibbling of her own anxiety rolled out of her mind, replaced with a almond-scented contentment. Take it slow, she told herself.

 _Take it slow and easy._

She didn't mind the rest of Valentine's Day.

 **- _Sing: End Story_ -**

 **AN: So that's the end of Jack of Hearts Hotel. However, I did enjoy writing this tale, but I feel that it can continue. Anyone wants to see the next bit? I'm open to it. Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed this story and its on to the next.**


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